Sinner, Saviour, Martyr
by Calenlass Greenleaf1
Summary: Who in this world is not a sinner? Yet few are saviours, and even fewer are martyrs. He is all three, and more. Allen, Post-Chapter 201 speculation. Introspective-heavy threeshot. No pairings. Completed.
1. I

**Title:** Sinner, Saviour, Martyr

**Author:** Calenlass Greenleaf

**Disclaimer:** D. Gray-man belongs to Hoshino

**Spoilers:** Major spoilers for 200 and 201. Will probably contradict 202 once it comes out because Hoshino is a troll who likes to do crazy things to my predictions and generally ruin them, heh. Some spoilers for the new DGM Reverse novel, "Fragments of Snow." Even if that novel hurts my brain a bit. ;;

**Rating:** High PG-13/T

**Warnings:** Blood, angst, violence/torture. Half-broken!Allen later. Abuse of Innocence-usage. No, this is not a happy fic, but uh…at least there is no character death? *runs now*

**Pairings:** Nope. Not a shipping fic. Nothing sexual.

**Summary:** Who in this world is not a sinner? Yet few are saviours, and even fewer are martyrs. He is all three, and more. Allen, Post-201 speculation. Post-201 speculation. Introspective-heavy twoshot. No pairings.

**A/N:** Written in two/three days; pardon the typos and possible dramatic-nature of some of this. It's been in my mind ever since DGM 201 was out, and written during a bad, bad week of RL while trying to deal with stress amidst stupid, loud neighbors smoking weed. Canonical stuff in regards to how Innocence works and how the Fourteenth is sealed should be correct; if not, let me know. Hoshino art has been weird, so I'm going for the fact that Allen is still human.

* * *

_**Sinner, Saviour, Martyr**_

_I._

'_You can no longer live in that place, can you…?'_

Such ominous words. Stating the obvious, really, but when those words were said aloud, they seemed far more condemnatory than had they not been said aloud. They hung in the air until everyone began to realise that the Noah were gone, leaving a slaughtering in their wake.

The adrenalin was fast fading now. First his leg started hurting. Then his shoulder. Then the multiple gashes and cuts. Then the other bones he probably had broken. Finally the gut-wrenching, sickening pain from the stab wound in his abdomen began hurting, and he ended up choking on his own blood when he tried to breathe.

"Allen!"

"Walker—"

"You—"

"Allen Walker—"

Too many people…were talking all at once. Too many people shouting his name. He couldn't keep track of who was shouting, and then someone's hands closed over his shoulders, hauling him up. All the blood was rushing away from his head, and he gasped as he breathed—or rather, tried to breathe. The fact that he was in deep, deep trouble only settled in when he tried to speak but was silenced by Link (who glared at him so fiercely), and his last conscious thought was "Why is Timcampi being sealed?" before he lost consciousness.

TTTTTTT

'_This is a serious betrayal. Do you have any idea what you are doing?'_

Of course he did. Hadn't he stated numerous times why he did the things he did? Why he destroyed to save? Why he made his choices?

He stared up at the white ceiling of the room—they hadn't let him stay with the others—and his mind run free. How difficult was it to understand his desires to help?

Or maybe he loved too much. Could he even help himself? You show kindness, you don't ask for payment, but you know inside yourself that you've done a good thing. Then why…why was his heart this heavy, right now?

Allen coughed; dull pain spiraled down from his head to his other wounds as he stiffly tried to keep from moving too much even while his shoulders spasmed. It had been a couple months since he had last been this heavily injured, after all. Level Four attack…

So long ago.

Such a long time since he had fought side-by-side with people.

Because since then, he had been fighting alone.

He fought the accusations they brought against him. He fought the suspicious looks and whispers. He even fought himself.

They all wanted and didn't want him. They wanted him to be their soldier, but at the same time, they called him a traitor. They wanted him for their war, but they also didn't want him to walk in his own convictions.

Grey eyes finally shut against the stark whiteness; he had been starting to see patterns in the cracks that quickly morphed into faces.

They had drugged him so that pain was barely there, but the drugs, he knew, were also for another purpose—to numb him enough so that he "wouldn't be a threat."

Ah, hah. The one deemed "the Destroyer of Time," was also being heavily watched. Seals on his Innocence arm and around his bed were a heavy reminder of that.

_I hate being drugged_, he thought as he shifted one leg up and tried to move his shoulder slightly to alleviate an ache in his back. He didn't like being without sensation. Actually, he was terrified of it because there had been a time he hated everything and everyone and no matter how hard he had tried to be unfeeling, it simply hurt all the more. But he finally learned that feeling was something he needed. But why did have he feel so much that it caused him pain like this?

The Order had been his second home—and for a bit, he had hoped it would have been a permanent—and for a good few months it had been good. Only until untold secrets had spilled out did he start feeling like a stranger. And now? He was clearly unwelcome.

One hand curled into a loose fist; he was near half-consciousness, and he couldn't even make himself smile even if he wanted to. They could have let him die a few days ago, but instead they took him back here. They could have killed him on the spot, but they chose to bring him to the Order. He hadn't spoken since the time he had tried to ask Link what was going on (and…it's been a while since he had last seen Link, strangely enough), hadn't needed to say anything. Just nod or shake his head, and wait.

Waiting for his execution, probably, he darkly imagined. Maybe they wanted to do this formally, but he knew they weren't going to kill him so quick if they were taking pains to transport him back and patch him up.

…what did they want from him now? His actions had spoken for him, so what was left?

Truth be told, he didn't want to find out what they wanted.

Allen held a breath, and then slowly let it out.

What did _he_ want right now, anyway?

He couldn't even answer that.

It occurred to him that he didn't know everything about the Order the he had joined, about a year ago. They fought in a war against the Earl, and they also used less-than-moral means of trying to win.

But had there ever been someone labeled a traitor?

He wasn't a Fallen One, after all. He hadn't betrayed his Innocence; it was still there; bound, but he could still feel it. Betraying Innocence and betraying the Vatican where two very different things—that, he had only begun to understand. So what did they want with him? Typically, a traitor is executed for his heresy. Unless he had been working for the enemy, he was quite useless. And Allen hadn't been working for Enemy. Unless you count the Noah inside of him, who's wants were just as unclear as everything else.

He suddenly tensed.

Did they want to question the Fourteenth?

Or, maybe they think he was withholding information about the Fourteenth.

He wasn't. There was only a name, a name he didn't want to think about. If anything, he'd like very much to not have someone taking over him. If he could still help it. But so many things made it difficult. At least he now knew what trigged the Noah—Innocence. Would Crown Clown, he wondered idly, some day turn on him because that?

He clenched his jaw.

_I won't let that happen._

Despite that he probably was no longer officially recognised as an Exorcists, technically, he still was one.

God help him, he had been born to be an Exorcist. The time he had lost his arm had shown him that, without it, he had no purpose.

He lived for this.

It wasn't about rules or thing limiting him. It was the want to save, the want to see sadness gone.

It was not simply about winning.

Winning could be done without this much pain, he knew. But the Vatican chose this way; maybe in their mind, they thought this war had gone on too long; it had to be ended. But when you trade morals for unethical…

Was it right?

God was White, the Earl was Black.

Allen Walker was considered Grey.

The door opened, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw Leverrier and several Crow.

_Even if he were more White than the Vatican would ever be._

**TBC…**


	2. IIa

**A/N:** Warnings apply here. And when I say torture, I do mean torture. ;; (s-sorry Allen…and Link and Miranda :/) But if anything, history's shown that the Catholic Church once did deal heavy-handedly towards people they deemed heretics.

**A/N#2:** II got way too long; I split it up.

* * *

_IIa._

"_If you don't, then you're no longer an Exorcist!_"

He had tried not to think about the implication of those words, but they were at the foremost of his mind right now.

They had connected the shackles on his feet to Crow needles that were staked to the ground, sealed the area he was in, and left him there with Two Crows who guarded him. Two days had passed; the drugs had long worn off, and he could feel every one of his injuries. And it seemed that whenever he was stabbed by Innocence, it made his body temperature rise. Not to mention he was off the IV, and feeling…hungry.

Actually, make it hunger pains. He was leant against a corner of the room, hand pressed against his shoulder. It was cold…and then it was hot.

He told himself to stop thinking about those things.

The longer he was here, the longer…he thought about himself, and how things his last fight had…gone so badly.

It had started with the mission to Jordan with Kanda, Link, and the Thirds. There had been the information about the Thirds, then Kanda disappeared, and then Noah had appeared and attacked...him getting separated from Link and then using the Ark to go to the North American Branch… Him trying to save Tokusa, and then him watching Kanda's memories, punching Kanda, then Alma's awakening…trying to stop Kanda from killing Alma, trying to keep himself from being killed by Alma and Kanda, getting stabbed by Kanda, having the Fourteenth awaken, seeing Alma's soul, sending Kanda and Alma to Martel, trying once again to save Tokusa despite Leverrier's orders, getting sealed by Link, and watching the Thirds be taken away by the Noah—

And now him, imprisoned down here in an area he knew nothing about.

Barely any light filtered into this area, and while he might have seen a glance of Timcampi—dear Lord, he didn't know how Tim had gotten that big—had been a long, long while since he had last seen one of his friends. There had only been nurses, Crow, Leverrier.

What was Kanda doing right now, he thought as he turned his head a bit to rest his forehead against the cool stone. Where were Lavi and Lenalee? Johnny? Komui and Reever…

_It's not that they don't want to see me_, he told himself. _They were prevented._

He wasn't lying to himself, was he?

Or maybe they possibly blamed him, in one small part.

Because all the troubles had escalated when he had proclaimed that he wouldn't let Noah or the Vatican get in the way any more.

Get in the way of what? Him, saving.

He didn't even know anymore.

Allen's gaze fell on his right hand, lying loosely across his leg.

'_My left hand for the Akuma, and my right hand for the humans_.'

He didn't find it particularly troublesome to follow his convictions, but why was it so hard for others to understand?

Kanda had called him cursed.

But he was just another sinner.

Chaoji said he was no better than Akuma.

He just wanted to save both Akuma and human (and that constituted Noah).

The Vatican proclaimed him a traitor.

And maybe…he'd be a martyr now.

He almost could laugh at himself for being…different. So very different. But then again, he always was, wasn't he? From the very beginning, being thrown away by his parents, ending at a circus…

Even if he didn't understand, why did it have to be one or the other? Why couldn't it be both?

He still believed the Noah capable of being saved.

They were still human.

Shouldn't that be what mattered more?

So lost was he in his thoughts that didn't hear the footsteps until they were pounding quite loudly. He stiffened; it wasn't the changing of guards, because they usually did not walk like that. He recognised Leverrier's step, and Link's deliberate pace, and one he hadn't heard for a while—Miranda's agitated, unsteady gait. Unease ran through him as he tried to appear anything but nervous. Leverrier he expected, Link he was resigned to, but…Miranda?

"Did you sleep well, Walker?"

He didn't even look up at Leverrier's voice; there wasn't any point. Link's hand suddenly fisted the front of his tunic and hauled him to his feet, and only then he did look up.

The former Crow refused to meet his gaze; their eyes only locked briefly, and he saw something flicker before Link tilted his head at the two other Crow. They came and gripped his arms, and his apprehension went up a notch. He was already sealed; why were they doing this?

His gaze moved to Leverrier, and Miranda. The poor woman was pale and shaking, on the verge of tears. Her hand was clutching her Innocence so hard that her knuckles were white.

"Not quite so defiant now, are we?"

"…" He would play the stubborn card longer and say nothing. Keep his poker face, too.

"You can either make this easier or harder, Walker."

"…."

Allen didn't expect Link to strike him in the gut then and there. Grey eyes widened as the punch caught the side of his wound, and for a moment he forgot how to breathe as he slumped forward and would have fallen if not for the hand holding him up.

_So that's why they're there,_ he grimly thought as he quietly sucked in air and regained his composure. Even tilted his chin up and straightened his shoulders the best he could despite the pain it caused him.

"Well, what is it going to be?"

"…it would depend on the situation," he finally replied, voice cracking because he hadn't used to for about a week.

"A few questions and nothing more, I can tell you."

He didn't answer that.

"Why did you not obey my commands when I told you to destroy Alma?"

He was wise enough not to rolls his eyes at that. His silence garnered another punch, this one to his ribs. When he staggered back up, he caught of glimpse of Miranda covering her mouth and looking away.

"Why."

No response.

His head was knocked back into the wall behind him; stars flashed in his vision and he almost lost his balance again, but caught himself.

"Because I wanted to help Tokusa," he gritted out.

"You let Exorcist Kanda Yuu leave. We have lost another Exorcist."

"After what you did to Kanda, I'm surprised he didn't leave earlier." The blow to his mouth made his lip start bleeding. "Destroying Alma—more people would have died."

"You let the Thirds fall into the hands of the enemy, Walker." Leverrier sharply said. "And now they're the Earl's pawns."

_And whose fault was it that they were spliced with Akuma cells?_ He almost said this aloud, but caught himself in time. Still, he couldn't stop himself from saying something else almost as scathing. "Weren't Second and Third Exorcists the Vatican's pawns, too?" He let the next punch catch him in the eye, breath catching ever-so-slightly.

"They fight for God, just like you're supposed to."

"Supposed to? H-hah." Despite the burning in his chest, he let out a short burst of laughter. "_Hah_." His eyes flashed. "Then what have I been doing up to this point if I hadn't been fighting for God?"

"That is what we want to know."

He forced himself not to cringe when Leverrier brushed his thumb over his left eye. "This cursed eye of yours—from the very beginning, you were already in the wrong, trying to bring your father back from the dead."

"I didn't know better at that time."

"You almost became a puppet if not for your Innocence." Leverrier continued on as if he had not heard Allen. "Just another Akuma."

"What are you trying to say?"

"That I wonder if you aren't more Akuma than human at times."

"Of course I'm human." How in the world would they doubt—? "My Innocence proves that."

"Yet there is a Noah inside you, and you have Innocence. How is this possible?"

"…I don't have all the answers," he replied frankly. He truly did not.

"You, Allen Walker, are a mess to deal with." Leverrier folded his arms and paced the room. He walked past Miranda, now leaning against the wall for support and softly weeping into her hand. "A mess of contradictions."

"How about you tell me something I don't—" _Thump._ "—d'know about." He stuttered on the last two words.

"Impudence will get you nowhere," Link spoke for the first time since entering, his tone of voice stiff.

"You…watchdog," Allen hissed out lowly at him.

Link grabbed his chin and forced their eyes to meet. "Better a watchdog than a kicked puppy, Walker," he said, just a low before something once again flickered in his gaze.

Allen finally realised it for what it was—conflict. He was hardly allowed time to dwell on it, though; Link pummeled him right in the wound on his abdomen.

He couldn't stifle the soft moan as the pain spread and his legs no longer supported him.

A kicked puppy, was he?

Just like the old days…

Leverrier was asking him something, but his mind was drifting. To days when he didn't have a name. When he wasn't worth anyone's time, wasn't worth a damn. Days when he was bitter and angry, childishly declaring in his mind he hated all. And the only thing that had cared was that dog.

And then there had been Mana who had been the only person to have ever cared. Cross had called him crazy, and Allen wondered now if he had been a replacement for the Fourteenth, or even for the dog—

A series of sharp blows bought him back to reality though, and he found himself wrenching the grasp of the two Crow before he stopped himself.

"Are you through being insolent?"

"I…have told you all I've known, and s-so did my master." He blinked to clear his vision, and forced his voice not to slur. "What else do you want to know?"

"The Fourteenth."

"I know nothing about him except that he hates his brother." Breathe, slowly. Ignore the possibility of another broken rib. "He hates the Earl."

"And that he wants to take the Earl's place."

"That, too, but he is not on the Earl's side."

"But he will replace the Earl and continue to be the Enemy."

"H-how would you know? Maybe he wants to chang—_hngk_." He coughed up blood; too many strikes at his chest. "Sp'culation leads nowhere…"

"And there you go again, defending Noah."

"He was pursued by the Earl. He was Mana's brother."

"Ah, Family issues? I thought you didn't want to be dragged into such 'brotherly fights,' as you put it."

"You know what I—_kyuh_—mean." At this rate, he was going to past out.

"Should you become the Fourteenth, you would cease to be Allen Walker, and we would lose an asset."

"Th-that's all I am to you, another Exor—_Ah!_—cist." He drew in a ragged breath, choking on his own blood. "S'why I'm not fighting for either you or Noah. Because you both are the same." He inwardly flinched, expected the punch he knew he would received for that. _Maybe_, he thought as he weaved on his feet, head spinning and body ached; passing out wasn't such a bad idea right now…

But Link just looked at him, and then at Leverrier.

The Inspector nodded at the two other Crow.

Allen tipped over to one side as one of the robed figures let go of him; he was barely aware of the Crow roughly cutting his tunic away, and then getting rid of the bandages he had on. Fingers in his hair dragged him back up to stare at the cold look that belonged to Leverrier.

"You hope to pass out and be gone, no?"

Somewhere down the line, he had dropped his poker face, he belatedly realised. Not that it mattered anymore…

"Exorcist Miranda, come."

Confused, he watched as Miranda raised her tear-stained face and stumbled towards them. "God forgive me," she whispered.

"There is nothing forgive, Miranda Lotto," Leverrier patted her shoulder—a mocking comfort. "You're carrying out His justice."

"But—"

Sickeningly, he could guess what was going to happen.

Miranda could briefly reverse time.

They were going to make her activate her Innocence on him and question him until they were satisfied.

And from past experience, he knew just how much injury he could take before it was too much.

For a split second, he panicked; his heart thudded loudly in his ears, and he almost felt the urge to whimper. To let the emotions run. But then his usual reaction to pain kicked in, and he glared at Leverrier.

"How could you?"

The man simply shrugged, and smiled. "For the sake of this war. You are withholding information, and we want it out of you." He looked at Miranda. "Activate."

"I-I-I—" A sob. "_Can't!_"

"As an Exorcist, you—"

"Miranda," Allen cut in as he found his footing. "It'll be fine." He smiled the best he could. "Remember what Lenalee and I told you back at your old town?"

_So as long as we're alive, our injuries will heal._

He'd be weak to die from something like this.

The woman looked at him through reddened eyes, but forcefully nodded once. "I'm sorry, Allen," she said before she raised her hand. "Time Record…" A long pause. "Ah-_Activate_."

Well, if they wanted him to answer, they'd have to fight for it, he dimly thought as his wounds faded and he could stand.

After being stabbed in the way, having his Innocence ripped away, and a hole eaten into his heart, he didn't fear Death the least bit.

But…how long, he wondered as more questions were thrown at him, would he last before they decided to stop?

TTTTTTT

* * *

**A/N:** the next half of this will be posted in a couple of days.


	3. IIb

**A/N:** the second half of II; warnings still apply.

* * *

_IIb._

'…_you who has done nothing but break the rules…'_

Rule-breaker, was he?

"Again."

How many times had they already beaten him and made her heal him, he wearily asked in his mind as he hung in the hands of the Crow, and how many times more must they do this?

"I've told you all I know, there's nothing more," he ground out as soon as he could talk. "Nothing."

He winced as he was clouted on his shoulder.

This beating around, they dragged him to near unconsciousness with their strikes. He ended up with his head tipped back against the wall, eyes shut, and blood clinging to him everywhere. He was already healing slower. His body, under Time Record or no, was going to quit on him; and Miranda, emotionally distressed, wasn't properly activated.

But they hadn't made him scream.

Not yet.

But anymore and he might.

A fist slammed upon his face, and for the umpteenth time he cracked the back of skull against the wall.

_Poor Allen Walker._

Oh, not now. _Go 'way._ He feebly tried to push the Noah away.

_I could help you a little here._

_**No.**_

_You don't get a say in this, my—well, host, but you're my nephew, too, aren't you?_

_S—_

His eyes snapped open and he tugged hard against the hands that held him up.

And he screamed as he struggled within himself.

"I-I said no!" Teeth scraped against teeth as he strained his neck and twisted his body. "Just don't—"

He felt his control slip.

"_Mana!_" He thrashed, and his eye activated.

'_Allen_.'

_Mana…_

And control was back in his hands, but it was final thing to shatter him.

A sob wracked him as he swayed limply, all composure gone. A heavy feeling in this throat that had nothing to do with the blood and saliva that was choking him was clawing at him. He gagged, spat up blood, and then shuddered as he tried to breathe.

Why was his burden the hardest to bear? Why were this curse and this Innocence parts of him? Why did he have to walk a difficult path?

Just…why did he have to care in the first place?

Because someone had shown him kindness when others had abandoned him.

And he could only do the same for others.

"Well, are you going to answer me, Walker?"

He wished it didn't hurt so much though, doing what he knew was right.

Slowly, he raised his head, tears staining his face, but his voice didn't tremble as he spoke. "I've made me choices." He swallowed. "You can't win this war without me, can you?" At the frosty glare he received, he continued. "You need me. So let me walk my way. You can call me a traitor all you want, but I haven't betrayed Mana."

Silence hung in the damp, cold air, save for Miranda's choked breathing. Then Leverrier jerked his chin at her. "Deactivate. And you—" he pointed one of the Crow. "—take her back."

Allen was allowed to fall on the ground, and he rolled onto his side. He bit down on his hand the instant Miranda released him, not wanting to traumatise her more with his sounds of pain.

But oh, God, did it hurt. His heartbeat, reverberating, seemed to slow, and voices were fading away.

"Inspector Link."

"Yes, Sir?"

"Take him."

"Understood, Sir."

A hand on his shoulder made him flinch, but he realised it was only Link. He felt the man lift him up, almost gently, onto his back.

"Ch-ink." Déjà vu, this. He bumped his chin against Link's shoulder as he tried to say the Inspector's name.

"Don't speak."

"Th'nk you."

A pause. "It's my job, Walker." Then, more quietly, "I wish I could apologise."

"S…s'fine." And then he was finally granted unconsciousness.

.

.

.

"—_len? Allen?"_

So soon? He had only just closed his eyes.

"_Allen_…"

He groaned and shifted his head a bit; there was something in his bloodstream again, clouding everything. But despite that…he should know that voice

"Please open your eyes…it's been a week."

A…week? Blearily, he somehow cracked open his swollen eyes and met a pair of wide, teary, dark ones.

"Len'lee," he slurred, "you're fine." It had been a while since he had last seen her…

"Of course of I am." He could faintly feel her hand closed over his. "You're the one…injured like this." Her voice broke. "A-Allen…"

"I'll be all right." Allen somehow summoned enough strength to reach a hand up and touch her cheek. "In time. Be…fine."

"They told me the Noah appeared all the around the world, and oh, God, the Thirds…Kanda's disappeared, and so have Bookman and Lavi. Chaoji is comatose, the half the Science Department are…no longer with us, and you—" Words spilled over as she spoke. "—they didn't even let me see you for a week because you were too badly injured and because they were afraid of you…the Fourteenth, he came out, didn't he? Two weeks you were like this, Allen…"

And then he knew the no-one knew he had been down there, getting the beating of his life. Or, that the "official decision" would be coming much later. He didn't know whether to be relieved that they wouldn't know how he had fallen apart, or to be grieved that this was yet another thing the Order hid.

But for the moment, Lenalee had her forehead pressed gently to his and her arms gently wrapped around his shoulders. Her forehead was blessedly cooler, but her hands comfortingly warmer. "Allen…I-I—"

A few tears fell onto his face. His throat closed, and he simply nodded against her. "Don't worry, Lenalee." He strained his arm just a bit more, to pat her on the back. His body complained at this, but he ignored it. "I'm still alive."

Battered and scorned, certainly, but he was alive.

"The others want to see you."

He shuddered before he realised what he had done. They—he couldn't face them yet. "But…they always end up seeing me half-dead," Even forced out a laugh. "I think I want to wait on that…"

But Lenalee was giving him an odd look, peering at him closely.

"Um…" A blink. "…yes?"

"You look older."

"I'm hardly…fifteen, was it?" Seventeen, he was. Another year and he would be eighteen…if he were allowed to live that long.

"No, not in that way." A hand touched the side of his face. "Your eyes…"

"I don't know what you mean." He carefully kept the weariness out of his voice, not looking at her. Yes, he was lying. He knew exactly what she meant, but he didn't want to say anything about it.

The sequence of events had happened too fast. He felt overwhelmed and more tired that anything else. Like he needed to sleep and not wake up for a month.

If only it were possible.

Exorcists had no vacations, after all, nor did they retire. It was a death job….or a life that would evidently end in death. A martyr's death.

Had he been alone in the room, he would have allowed himself a grim smile.

"…do you know where Kanda went?" Lenalee softly asked him, breaking him out of his train of thought. "They wouldn't tell me."

"Can you tell me where Lavi and Bookman are, though?"

"They disappeared, so I don't know." The girl tucked a strand of hair away from her face, and Allen saw the bandages on her cheek and hand. "But they say Kanda…you sent him somewhere."

"I did."

"Wh—"

"I can't say." He shook his head a bit. "And I would be betraying Kanda if I were to tell anyone. But he's…alive." He hoped.

"I hate the fact I can't do anything. Not even when the Third…turned into a monster, and there was a Noah telling me about you and the Fourteenth." As she talked, her fingers were running through his hair.

It was a strangely comforting motion that sent warm sensations down his neck and back, making him want to sigh and close his eyes.

"…but people are saying things about you. Things I don't like. And Timcampi—they're keeping him somewhere but I—"

"Lenalee." He swallowed carefully, wishing he had water. "How much did you know about what happened with the Thirds?"

"Barely anything." She looked frustrated. "No-one wants to say anything to me. But I have a right to know…don't I?"

He didn't reply at first.

"I even tried asking Link."

"You know he wouldn't say anything."

"But he let me in when another Crow tried to stop me."

Ah? He could almost smile at that. Link…he didn't think they could ever look each other in the eye again. But it good enough to know that the Inspector was…doing something like this.

"You have a right to know, but there's just been so much happening that I—even I," he coughed, "cannot honestly say I understand everything."

She was still stroking his hair. "Can you tell me later?"

"…"

"I won't push you now, but something happened to you." Her thumb brushed the corner of his eye. "Miranda knows something but she won't say what."

He tensed at the mention of Miranda. God, that had been terrible—forcing her to use her Innocence for that purpose.

"Was it Leverrier?"

"Somewhat," he finally ventured to say.

And then he wondered if he should lied, for her eyes were filling with tears again. "Th-that _man_," Her other hand found his hand. "Allen—"

"I'll be fine, really." Nothing that time wouldn't heal.

"What did he do?"

"Le—"

"Half of your wounds—they're from him, aren't they?" A finger was pressed his bruised eye. "I—"

Allen just shook his head. "Later." He wouldn't tell her later when he could sit up. "I promise, later."

She took a shuddering breath. "The way you try to act older…I wish you didn't have to."

That's right; he was younger than she.

But half the time, he felt older. Older than Kanda or Lavi sometimes, actually. Maybe it was the consequences of being forced to grow up quickly, but he couldn't that yes, he often tried to act older.

"Someone has to take responsibility," he finally said.

"For everything?"

"For many things."

"You're not the only fighting."

"No, I'm not." And he felt an exhausted but genuine smile spread his face. "For which I am grateful." He curled his fingers around hers.

"I know that Central is agitated about you. They won't say what, but I can tell by the way Link acts whenever I run into him."

"When I have ever not…put them in frenzy?"

"That's what you get for trying to save everyone."

He couldn't read her tone of voice. "Do you resent the fact that I do that?"

She seemed surprised at that question. Her hand stopped moving through his hair.

"If you do, it's fine." A thin smile, half-bitter and half-resignation.

But Lenalee only shook her head. "My brother first, my friends second, and the Order is third," she said, eyes gaining a distant look them. "I don't resent it."

"..ah? Thank you."

Allen wondered if he would ever reach the point of leaving the Order to fight his own side of this War.

And if he did that, he wondered who would support him.

The possible issues of that, among other things, rose in his mind and he had to repress them lest his head split apart from his headache.

_I'm still walking forward, no matter what, _he thought.

_It's the only thing I can do without fail._

And, it was the only thing that hadn't changed about him.

Hadn't they all sinned? He wasn't more righteous than anyone else was he? Weren't they…all trying their best? That was but a hope based on dreams, though. More often than not, saviours weren't recognised by those they saved. And more often than not, they became martyrs.

He was still alive, at least.

And so he would continue being part of the Order. For now.

**Fin.

* * *

**

**A/N:** After all the reviews, I was tempted to add chapters. Maybe even turn it into a multi-chapter fic. But time restraints and fear of running into writer's block (every time I try to write WIPs, that don't listen to me :/) told me not to extend this any longer. I could only end up making this longer, but not anymore.

In regards to multi-chapters fics, I have two in the planning process or in the early chapters, but I want to finish them in their entirety before beginning to post them. Reasons for this are because in the past, I just… well, can't update consistently. :/ But meanwhile, you can expect me to turn out various oneshots and two/three/four chapter-fics. Which I hope will not disappoint. =)

Thank you for reading and reviewing, and I hope you've enjoyed it!

~Cal


End file.
